Sway
by reinkarnation
Summary: 13/Cam femslash. Thirteen sways *that* way. Cameron does too. Well... probably. No one is just so sure about anyone anymore. But, you know, except when it's about House. Cos we're all sure that he's a son of an unprintable word.


This is actually a song fic (the song is "Sway" by Bic Runga) that will be cut in two parts, cos it'll be tacky if I give you a long read. And speaking of read, you really have to read my other fanfic "**To Confront Or Not To Confront**" because this one is the sequel to it. (Sorry, I was gonna put that in the summary, but I can't go beyond the character limit. It's like bloody Twitter.) Part 2 will come in soon. Cheers.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. And the show.

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**Sway**

She lost it. She totally lost her eyeglasses. _Great. I have not only impaired vision, but also impaired memory. Wow, I really am not getting any younger. _Trying her best to recall where she may have misplaced them, Cameron ends up rummaging her locker. As far as she knows, she never puts her eyeglasses in her locker -- but she might as well look.

As predicted, she doesn't find her glasses in there. But take a wild guess what she finds -- and, no, it's not snakes.

_Suspenders?_

Cameron's face paints a picture of confusion.

* * *

_Don't stray_

_Don't ever go away_

_I should be much too smart for this_

_You know it gets the better of me_

_---  
_

Cameron bursts into House's office with the wrath of a lion -- if that's even possible. It's already hard enough to imagine Cameron as a lion, let alone with its wrath. (Well, the blonde hair is the closest that you can get. Make of that what you will.)

"Hey! Where are your manners? I'm watching porn!" House barks, pointing at his computer, and turns to face the intruder. Well, he's watching porn alright. How he can get away with NSFW materials is probably something Cuddy might want to monitor.

Cameron, unfazed by all the obscenity in House's computer, ignores him. "What is this?" she asks with a tinge of annoyance in her voice as she holds up the suspenders in her hand for House to see.

Giving her a stare meant for idiots, House shots back, "Did your IQ drop to, like, 50?"

Silence. Cameron is in no mood to deal with sarcasm.

"Fine. It's called _suspenders_," House finally answers albeit still sarcastically.

For a couple of unproductive minutes, the two doctors just stare at each other -- well, not really; Cameron _glares _at him.

House rolls his eyes, feeling like he's dealing with some stupid kid. "What, you want me to spell it too? God. Okay, little Cameron, follow teacher Greg. S-U-S--"

"House, why is this in my locker?" Cameron interrupts, getting to the point -- which, by the way, she could have done moments ago instead of wasting time she could have productively spent saving a crashing patient in the ER.

"Are you accusing me? You're hurting my feelings," House says, placing a hand over his heart. He has feelings? Really? He has a heart? Really? All together now -- gasp!

Seemingly blasé by the other doctor's flippancy, Cameron pushes the question further, "Who owns these suspenders?"

"Obviously not me," comes the casual reply. House then goes back to looking at his computer. We don't know why that's supposed to be _obviously_ since it's actually possible to imagine House owning suspenders. Actually, it's possible to imagine _anyone_ owning suspenders. It's _wearing_ them that's hard to visualize.

"House," Cameron rebukes.

"It's in your locker. Therefore, it's yours. _Duh_."

"Just because it's in my locker doesn't mean it's mine," Cameron counters. Oh yes, we've all gone through high school, where random stuff happen to find its way in everyone's locker -- totally _random_ stuff that sometimes bring us either to a blind date or to detention.

"Right. Because you live in Hogwarts where brooms fly, envelopes talk, and suspenders walk to locker rooms."

"Yes, and where a Vicodin-addicted ogre morphs into a human being hobbling on one leg, pretends to be a doctor, and invades people's privacy," Cameron shots back, making House wonder just _who on earth_ she's talking about. Heh. "House, why --"

"Are you describing Cuddy? Well, I dunno about her leg, but I do know that she has enormous jugs. And contrary to what you said, I don't think Vicodin has anything to do with that. Maybe she's taking excessive Estrogen pills. What do you think?" House says, trying his best attempt at showing an innocent face. Well, that really did stir things up a bit, didn't it?

Cameron doesn't even flinch, not really interested about Cuddy's jugs -- or anyone else's jugs for that matter. "Why is this in my locker?" she repeats the question.

"Why are you accusing me?"

"You must've forgotten that you're the master of breaking and entering."

"Thank you for acknowledging my amazing prowess," House answers, concentrating on his computer and searching for pictures of an actress named Lisa Edelstein whom he, as it seems, has the hots for. Coincidentally, that actress looks a lot like a certain Dean of Medicine. "Do you mind?" he scoffs at the blonde, "As you can see, I'm busy. Well, if you like looking at hot naked girls -- which I know you do, then feel free to look over my shoulder. No, wait. I just said that to the wrong person. You're not Thirteen."

Cameron sighs, exasperated, and starts to leave when House had an epiphany -- like one of those casual conversations he has that would result to an out-of-the-blue diagnosis, except that this wasn't… a diagnosis. Well, kind of.

"Oh my God!" he gasps.

Her attention caught, Cameron turns around to look back at him. "What?"

"Lesbian!"

"What?!"

"You're a lesbian!" House hoots mockingly, pointing an accusing finger at the blonde standing on his office doorway. No, he isn't making any sense. "You own suspenders! Eww!" House exaggerates. "Closet lesbian!" he hollers loud enough, hoping people outside his office can hear and spread the gossip like wildfire. He's a jerk like that.

"House!" Cameron roars. She's livid, not believing how House could be such a pain in the ass. Making a cause and effect relationship between suspenders and sexuality is nonsense -- clearly a non sequitur. "I already told you, these aren't mine! And I'm not gay, okay? I don't wear suspenders!"

"Lesbian lesbian lesbian…" House hums to himself, pretending not to hear the other doctor.

"These are probably from… I dunno, Dr. Hadley," Cameron finishes. It's unbelievable how House manages to make life hell for… just about everyone.

Silence.

"Oh boy," House shakes his head dramatically.

Gawking, Cameron is starting to feel like her former boss is on crack. Oh, yes, he's a drug-addict alright -- Vicodin is his crack. But that only adds to his charm, actually. Cameron notices House looking behind her, so she then looks over her shoulder and comes face to face with…

_Thirteen. Goddamnit._

Silence. Make that _awkward_ silence.

"I… I was just going to do some, uhh… blood tests," Thirteen stammers and walks away. Whatever she came to the office for has to be postponed as her most awkward encounter with Cameron had just taken place.

Meanwhile, Cameron freezes as she stares wide-eyed at the brunette's retreating figure._ Oh. My. God._

"Great, Cameron, you broke the lesbian's heart," House blurts out, breaking the blonde's thoughts and the silence. "I mean, the _other _lesbian. You're the closet lesbian. She's the resident lesbian."

Suddenly, Cameron comes to a realization, and if her eyes can open any wider, they're going to fall out of their sockets. "I was right! These really are hers!" she says her thoughts out loud, looking at the suspenders then to House.

"Of course it's hers," the other doctor says matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes, indicating that he knew this all along. "Whose do you think it is? Foreman's? Ew, he'll look uglier in them. With a hideous tie to match."

"I can't believe you stole Thirteen's suspenders and put it in my locker! What, do you want her to accuse me of theft?!" It's actually quite surprising that Cameron can't believe it. Cos we so can.

"No, but that's actually a very good idea. Catfight!" House says, striking an imaginary paw in the air. Girl-on-girl action is always a good idea. Well, for him anyway. Just wanting to strangle him at the moment, Cameron looks daggers at him. "Okay, I admit I committed the crime. But isn't that amazing how I'm so innocent-looking? This is my innocent face," House says, putting on his best pouty face. "Convincing, right?"

"You're an asshole," Cameron states the obvious before she turns around and runs after Thirteen.

"That's the way, Cameron! Chase Thirteen! And do it in slow mo!" House calls out even if the other doctor is now out of earshot.

Silence.

House pauses in his seat. "_Chase_ Thirteen. Ha. That's brilliant." He then turns back his attention to his computer. He really is an asshole. Tsk.

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Cameron runs after Thirteen.

"Dr. Hadley!" she calls out, but the other doctor doesn't seem to hear her -- or probably pretending to _not_ hear her. When she saw Thirteen heading for the elevator, Cameron almost stumbles as she tries to pick up her speed, bumping into an annoyed nurse. "Sorry!"

The elevator door closes before she even got there.

_Beep beep! _goes her pager, telling her to come down to the ER to help the victims of a head-on car collision.

"Dammit," Cameron mutters to herself as she realizes that she now has to take the stairs.

* * *

_Sometimes_

_When you and I collide_

_I fall into an ocean of you_

_Pull me out in time_

_---  
_

_Don't let me drown_

_Let me down_

_I say it's all because of you_

_---  
_

It's Cameron's lunch break, and she doesn't feel like eating lunch at all. She's far too tired after taking charge of that big mess known as the Emergency Room. The doctor's lounge sounds heaven as of the moment. As she opens its door, she almost bumps into Thirteen who's just on her way out.

"Sorry," the younger doctor mutters a quick apology, not so much as even looking Cameron in the eye. She doesn't even seem to know who she just bumped into; all she saw was a mass of blonde hair. It could be Taub wearing a bloody wig for all she cares, but she really has to rush to somewhere. Real fast.

Thinking Thirteen is discernibly avoiding her after that encounter this morning, Cameron grabs her wrist. "Dr. Hadley," she calls out, deciding to take matters into her own hands.

For a split second, Thirteen is surprised that it was Cameron. "What are you doing?!" she barks as the blonde ushers her back into the doctor's lounge.

The brunette uncomfortably stands next to the door, waiting for the other doctor to explain herself. Cameron, on the other hand, just remains as still as a monument as she realizes, to her horror, that what she did was just wrong. She shouldn't have pulled Thirteen into the doctor's lounge. Why?_ Because I don't know what to say to her! _Well, this is a problem now, is it? Amazing where stupid spur-of-the-moment decisions take you.

Actually, she _does_ know what to say, alright. She wants to explain herself so bad but somehow just doesn't know how to deal with Thirteen at times like these. Remember that confrontation in Stewart's house? It didn't turn out so great in the explanation department, and Cameron doesn't want something like that to happen again.

For a minute, they just stare blankly at each other, waiting for the other to break the deafening silence. "Listen, I…" Cameron trails off, though she isn't really sure yet where that sentence is headed to.

Thirteen raises her eyebrows, anticipating for a continuation. There's none. "Dr. Cameron, I have to go. I --"

"Can we talk over coffee?"

_What? Did I just hear her right?_ Thirteen observes the woman in front of her. "Sorry, my break's over. This will have to wait. I really have to…" she stops as she gets distracted by the seemingly anxious look planted on Cameron's face. At that moment, Thirteen decides that seeing Cameron worried is pretty much the most uncomfortable experience. Ever.

Well, yes, it is.

"Dr. Cameron," Thirteen says, a little concerned now, her impatience fading just by looking at Cameron's eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Umm… about the gay thing…" Cameron starts, feeling a bit uneasy. She has never talked about something like this before.

"The _gay_ thing," the brunette repeats, her voice apparent with confusion. "I don't think I'm following you right now."

Uncertain of what to say next, Cameron holds her breath. This is going to be ugly.

Thirteen reads Cameron's eyes, searching for details. However, she reads it wrong. _Dr. Cameron, if you're trying to tell me you're a homophobe, I don't even wanna know._ Thirteen quickly finds a way to go off-topic. "Okay, look, Dr. Cameron, can we just talk about this some other time? I need to --"

_Beep beep!_

Oh, of course. Someone's pager has to cut the drama, because a cliché at this point is just bloody perfect.

Thirteen can't be more thankful for the timing. But then both House and Cuddy are going to kill her if their patient of the week dies due to her failure to respond to her pager, so instead of wasting her time by thanking all the angels and saints, Thirteen glances at her pager, throws out a quick "Sorry, that's my cue" to Cameron, and hightailed.

Yes, you can pretty much tell that that encounter didn't go well either.

* * *

_And here I go_

_Losing my control_

_I'm practicing your name_

_So I could say it to your face_

_---  
_

_Woosh!_

Cameron stares at her own reflection in the mirror after splashing her face with water. _This day can't get any worse. _Aside from all the drama in the ER and House being an asshole, Chase approached her minutes ago, telling her how he was a little disappointed that she didn't tell him that she wasn't going to show up in the cafeteria at lunch time. _Right. I was going to call him, but that run-in with Thirteen just… occupied my mind._

She really has to fix whatever feud she and Thirteen now have. They had little work camaraderie, and she isn't going to let herself destroy that -- well, what's left of that anyway. So here she is in the comfort room, contemplating ways of talking to Thirteen without coming off as an idiot.

"Dr. Hadley. Remy. Thirteen," she starts, trying out Thirteen's names. If she was going to approach the brunette again without looking as if she's going to bite her head off, she needs to sound comfortable with her name. For a moment, she remembers that someone else might be in the comfort room and nervously scans her surroundings and checked under the stalls for feet.

Coast is clear.

Going back to the sink in front of the mirror, she starts again, "Okay. Thirteen, I… Dr. Hadley, I didn't mean to… no, it's not supposed to be a formal talk. Remy. No, not Remy. I never call her Remy. Who on earth calls her Remy? Should I call her Thirteen? But we're not friends." This wasn't as easy as she thought it was. She tries it again, "Thirteen, I… dammit!"

Err… she's off to a bad start.

* * *

_It doesn't seem right_

_To look you in your eye_

_Let all the things you mean to me_

_Come tumbling out my mouth_

_---  
_

_Indeed, it's time_

_To tell you why_

_I say it's infinitely true_

_---  
_

Apparently, Cameron figured out that _Remy _and _Thirteen _would make her sound like some idiot who thinks she has even a morsel of friendship with Thirteen, so after a few minutes, she decides to settle for the name she's used to. Well, you know what they say: if it ain't broke, then drop the friggen glue gun. Or, you know, something like that. "Dr. Hadley," Cameron says to no one in particular, sighing before giving her rant of an explanation a try.

_Here goes._

"Dr. Hadley, I'm… sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. But I believe you've really misinterpreted what I said. I think you got the wrong notion that I meant to say you're more likely to own suspenders _because_ you're gay. I mean, you're not gay at all. You're bisexual… or something. Err… I mean, it was actually because you're the only one I can imagine who would look good in suspenders -- God, you look good in _anything._"

Pause. _Did I just really say that?_ "Oh no, I'm rambling." _Why am I nervous? This shouldn't be hard to do. _She continues to practice, "And, by the way, I found your suspenders in my locker. Blame House. He's an asshole. And uhh…" she thinks of more things to say but can't find the right words. "Oh God, this is not going to go well," she says, resting her elbows on the sink, and buries her head in her hands.

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Let me know what you think.


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